Wednesday, August 31, 2011

207. Natural selection

He worked his way purposefully toward the back of the warehouse.
The beam of his flashlight swept back and forth as he walked, casting only enough light to see his way forward.
Knowing his target, he passed shelf after shelf without stopping.
He was rather picky, for a thief.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

206. Menswear

There were hundreds of ties arranged chromatically.
Beyond that were shirts in stripes and checks, folded neatly into rectangles.
Hanging along each wall were slacks and sport coats.
It was another day in the business of making men look as they should.

Monday, August 29, 2011

205. Trotsky in exile

It is a fact, that before Trotsky was done in in Mexico, he spent time in my home town.
Between untimely end and untimely end, he was sequestered there with P.O.W.s from Germany.
There’s an old photo of him in our local museum.
This is a relatively  insignificant fact, except where I come from.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

204. Mouldy old paper

For years, it lay neatly folded at the bottom of an old steamer trunk.
The six neatly scrawled stanzas contained a message from the distant past.
A few bits of the page had crumbled to dust.
Their absence changed the message drastically.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

203. Hoffa’s body

Jimmy was probably buried somewhere quiet, like New Jersey.
Ten to one, the body was underneath thousands of tonnes of concrete that used to be a swamp.
Dale drew an “X” through one small section of a state map that had been sub-divided into grids.
They’d just have to keep looking.

Friday, August 26, 2011

202. Crow vs. Seagull

There was a half-eaten burger from a famous fast food chain on the street.
Yes, that one.
A crow swooped down, followed by a seagull.
The two birds fought and scratched and pecked until pickles and secret sauce littered the ground.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

201. You can’t always get what you want

If you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.
If you try sometimes, you just might find that sometimes you don’t.
She needed 38 million dollars.
Unfortunately, her numbers were not the right numbers.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

200. Voices in the dark

He stood in the dark shouting at echoes.
But they couldn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.
So he kept shouting.
He was waiting for answers.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

199. I saw a fox today

I went for a walk tonight at dusk.
My route took me through a nearby park.
The park was bisected by a minor roadway.
As the sun set, a small fox darted between the moving cars and disappeared into the woods.

Monday, August 22, 2011

A little help please...

This is a request rather than a regular blog post.
Do you have a favourite blog post?
If you do, how about emailing me at williamson.d[at]gmail[dot]com or dropping a comment below.
Thanks!

198. Secret government agency

They operated out of an abandoned warehouse.
They drove nondescript, late model American cars.
Regime change, weather control, faked moon landings; nothing was beyond their control.
At least they were working for us...

Sunday, August 21, 2011

197. Whether you believe it or not

The manholes were overflowing.
It had been raining for days.
Everything everywhere was limp and wet.
Meteorologically-speaking, he knew there’d be rain again tomorrow, but he still called it a chance.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

196. Compelled

Everything on Earth is subject to certain elemental influences.
At the smallest level, even atoms react to external pressures.
What moves a man to act?
Already forces had been set in motion.

Friday, August 19, 2011

195. Carrots

He was making an unconscionable noise.
Surely it was disrupting all these nice people.
Any second, one of them would turn and ask him to quit being such a jerk.
But it’s possible he was just being paranoid.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

194. Used up things

Everything felt threadbare.
The building and the man who owned it had both seen better days.
His wares were piled up in places.
But there were treasures to be unearthed here.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

193. DNA sample

She’d tried everything, but couldn’t reach the child.
Thankfully,  parent-teacher interviews were being held that evening.
She waited anxiously to meet Mom and Dad, hoping that, working together, solutions could be found.
Instead of progress, she gained a keen insight into the source of the child’s problem behaviours.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

192. Luck o’ the pot

It was the perfect summer day; the kind made for entertaining.
The backyard was decorated smartly in bright plaids.
A brilliant afternoon was in the offing.
Unfortunately, each guest had chosen to bring a vegetable tray.

Monday, August 15, 2011

191. A cold sweat

A glass bottle of Coca-Cola sat on a tiny wooden table.
It had to be glass because, somehow, it made the soda taste better.
The humidity of the afternoon had covered its entirety in condensation.
Slowly, a single drop slid down the length of the bottle.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

190. Failed offensives

Some time in the 1980’s, a group of G. I. Joes dug in to withstand a Cobra barrage.
During the attack, the Joes were buried in a tragic landslide.
They were never  heard from again.
He re-discovered their remains while digging a new flower bed in his aging parent’s back yard.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

189. The nuns


They made no sound, save for Latin and hymns.
When the hour was up, they stood in unison and filed toward the exit.
They made their way back to the cloisters in silence.
These were the true believers.

Friday, August 12, 2011

188. Toast

Two pieces of bread are toasting.
It happens so often, it is the epitome of the mundane.
So much so, that we forget the act of turning bread into toast is a complex combination of chemistry and invention.
The toast is burning.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

187. Quest for fire


A fire can flare up anywhere.
It needs only heat, oxygen and fuel.
So simple, so seductive, so beneficial, but also so destructive.
At this moment, everything was burning.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

186. Selection criteria

He was worried about bad breath.
But then again, gingivitis sounded pretty bad.
Would an all-around be good enough?
He’d been standing in the toothpaste aisle for nearly fifteen minutes.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

185. Grain

They say there’s a grain of truth in every story.
It’s in the telling that they grow and meander.
Take what happened here today.
Someday, when they talk about what you did here, it will sound legendary.

Monday, August 8, 2011

184. The gentleman's club

The men in the room had long since seen their younger days.
People said groups like this one didn’t matter anymore.
But they were good and honourable and willing to serve.
There will always be a place for men like that.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

183. Challenge of the unknown

Main street was gone.
At least part of it, anyway.
A massive sinkhole had swallowed everything from the Town Hall to the Barbershop.
Someone was going to have to go down there and check it out.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

182. Land yacht

It was an impressive sight.
It didn’t so much drive the streets as cruise them.
It’s girth was so substantial that, now stopped, it spilled into the opposing lane, halting traffic in both directions.
It’s owner was picking through items at a yard sale.

Friday, August 5, 2011

181. Fresh laundry

A stack of freshly folded towels sat on the bed.
Each one was folded in precisely the same way.
The pile held the faintest hint of the drier’s warmth.
There was a not unpleasant odour of the outdoors.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

180. A man standing in the street

There was a man standing in the street, bewildered.
Before that, he’d hit a telephone pole.
Prior to that, he’d swerved to avoid a cat.
When this whole thing started, he’d been driving to the corner store.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

179. Window shopping

Entering the mall, he stomped his feet to rid his boots of snow.
Looking up, he was transfixed.
He stood there, staring, for what had to be ten minutes.
The travel agent’s window was a wintery siren song.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

178. The call-in show

The host was a moderate.
His dulcet tones conveyed a calm, confident thoughtfulness.
It was odd that he didn’t attract the same type of listeners.
Frequently, the best he could do was blunt their vitriol.

Monday, August 1, 2011

177. Past lives

It had formerly been brightly coloured.
It had formerly been an object of interest.
It had formerly held something delicious and sweet.
Now it was refuse on the side of the interstate.